


There and then, here and now

by tinyniel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (sort of), Angst, Dubious Consent, First Kiss, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2014-11-25
Packaged: 2018-02-26 22:44:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2669165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinyniel/pseuds/tinyniel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Present!Dean takes a walk through the camp at night when Castiel surprises him. In more ways than one. </p><p>Might be a tad heavy on the angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There and then, here and now

**Author's Note:**

> This turned up while I was tidying my fanfiction-folder. I wrote it three years ago, and I know it's been posted somewhere before, but I can remember where. So now it's here too.
> 
> It might have a touch of non-con, though really it's more to do with confusion than actual force. If anyone thinks it should have a non-con warning, though, please let me know.

The camp quiets down at night. So much so that it's almost eerie. Under any other circumstance, Dean would welcome the quiet, the darkness, the possibility to stop, take a breath and just relax until morning.

Except he can't relax. Not here, not in this place. Not in this _time_. Everything is alien to him. Even the faces of the people he knows look different, somehow, and when they talk to him the words don't seem to make sense.

There's nothing familiar here, not really. No one he can talk to, no one he can trust. Hell, he can't even trust himself. Dean's always known that he does this; shuts down when emotions threaten to cloud his judgement. But this Dean, the Dean running this place ... He hasn't just shut down, he's forgotten how to feel altogether.

He can't sleep, which really isn't new to him. But this is a different kind of restlessness than the one he's used to. It's not flashbacks, or over-thinking things or being so damn tired of it all that he can't stop thinking about how good it would feel to just get out, now, and never look back. This time, here, it's a creeping feeling of uneasiness that seems mentally prod him, trying to tell him something that should be obvious to him, but that's just not making sense.

Bottom line; something is rotten in the state of Missouri, and it's not just the Croatoan virus.

So, having given up on his creaking camping bed, he wanders the camp aimlessly, hoping he doesn't run into someone else he's going to screw over (literally) in five years' time.

He passes Cas' cabin, and can't help but smile at the unmistakable noises drifting out through the open window. He should feel bad about this screwed up, future version of his friend. And he should feel guilty, because in a way this is his fault. But, he can't help but feel a little proud. For all the years Cas has been missing out, he sure seems to be making up for it.

He walks further, into a small cluster of trees behind the cabin, away from the lights and the happy-noises. It's hardly a forest, but it's big enough that when he gets to a clearing in the middle he can't see the cabins. 

It looks like a make-shift campsite, a circle of piled rocks in the middle, rocks and stubs scattered around it. Dean sits down on one of them, tilting his head up to look at the sky.

It's black, pitch black, without a single star or even a sliver of moon. It's like the sky, like everything else, has given up on this place, packed up and gone to set up shop somewhere else.

There isn't a single sound in the woods around him either, save a low rustle of wind. No animals, no bird-sounds. Not even the hoot of a lone owl.

Dean hates this world. He hates that this is what will happen if he doesn't accept his so-called "destiny". If the end result is a world in ruins, no matter what he chooses, isn't he better off saying 'yes'? Maybe he can spare some lives.

A snapping branch has him on his feet, clutching for his gun on instinct.

"Who's there!" he demands into the darkness.

No reply. Dean steps into the trees, eyes straining in the dark.

"Hello?" he tries again. "Chuck? Erm ... me?"

No answer.

"Cas?" he tries.

A par of arms grip him suddenly in the darkness, and pin him against a tree, a warm body pressed up against his.

"What the he-" Dean manages before wet, hungry lips find his and coarse, short hairs prickle against his chin.

Oh it's Cas all right. Dean struggles, tries to push the angel ... ex-angel off him, and Cas chuckles. It's a low, dirty sound, and one that Dean has never, ever heard from _his_ Cas, the one left behind in 2009.

"What's wrong?" Cas mutters, pulling his face away, but keeping his body pressed up against Dean's.

"Dude, get off me!" Dean barks.

"But you like this," Cas growls low in his ear. "Sneaking off, just you and me. Our own little secret."

And it dawns on Dean. Or rather, it hits him like a punch to the stomach. Future Cas, and his future self ... _son of a bitch_. 

"Cas, you've got the wrong me," Dean protests, making another attempt to push the angel off him. But, wings or no wings, Cas must have some mojo left because Dean's futile efforts to escape get him nowhere.

"I know exactly which you I've got," Cas murmurs, lips close to Dean's ear. He runs his hand down Dean's side, down his thigh, and back up the inside of it.

"Cas!" Dean barks, jerking away from the ex-angel's touch. 

Cas pauses, pulling his face back to let his blue eyes search Dean's green ones.

"I don't understand," he says.

"Join the club," Dean mutters. "Now would you please get the fuck off me?"

Cas backs away, eyes squinting at Dean, head tilting to reveal that at least parts of the old Cas are still there.

"Five years ago," he muses, brow furrowed.

"What about five years ago?" Dean asks, calming down now that he hasn't got Cas panting in his ear anymore.

"What was the last thing you did? Before Zachariah sent you here?"

"Went to sleep," Dean says, earning him Cas' 'stop being a dick or I will smite you where you stand'-look.

"Rafael," Dean says. "Me and ... past you tracked down Rafael."

Castiel laughs. "Ah yes. That explains it."

"Explains what?" Dean demands, and Cas smiles at him.

"You ... _we_ aren't there yet. Not back then."

"We're not where?" Dean asks, confused.

"I don't know if I should tell you," Cas says, index finger drumming his lips. "Time travel is a little tricky that way. And you'll find out soon enough."

"Wait." Dean holds up his hand. "Are you saying that somewhere between then and now, you and I end up like ... this." He gestures helplessly between them.

"Yes," Castiel says simply. "And by the sound if it, sometime very soon. Well, once you get home, that is."

"No way," Dean mutters.

His head hurts, really hurts now. He's seen Croatoan-infested kids, people being gunned down right in front of him, he's been chased by blood-thirsty zombies and he's been cuffed to a ladder, _by himself_. But now? NOW his head hurts.

"No way," he says again. "Nu'uh. Me and ... back-then-you, we're not like this. That."

"Not yet," Cas says, a knowing smile playing across his lips. "I mean, I've thought about it of course ... _then-me_ has thought about it, anyway."

"Excuse me?" Dean stares at him, and Castiel's smile suddenly gives him chills.

"You remember Maine?" Cas asks, and Dean nods.

"Last night on earth, possibly," Cas muses. "Remember how ... tense I got when you started talking about sex."

"Yeah, obviously," Dean says. "You're a virgin! Or-" He chuckles. "You were, anyway."

Castiel laughs.

"Yes. We're long past that."

"Nothing actually happened that night, though," Dean says. "Except I paid a hefty sum of money to almost get manhandled out of a brothel."

Cas chuckles. "No, nothing happened _that_ night."

"Then when?" Dean demands.

Castiel eyes him, amusement playing across his face.

"Are you sure you want to know?"

"No," Dean says, and Castiel laughs.

Cas moves closer, and Dean backs away, jumping as he finds himself trapped against the tree again.

"This," Cas says, running a finger down Dean's t-shirt, barely touching. "You and me. It's right around the corner for you."

"Yeah?" Dean means for it to sound challenging, but instead it comes out like a puff of air. Castiel chuckles.

"I want it," he mutters, leaning in to Dean's ear again. "I wanted it. Maine was a real eye-opener for me."

"Meaning?" Dean croaks it out, his body suddenly acutely aware of just how close Cas is again.

"Let's just say that Chastity wasn't exactly what I _needed_."

"Plain English, Cas."

Castiel laughs, lips actually nipping at Dean's earlobe.

"You, Dean," he murmurs. "Why do you think I got so nervous when you brought up sex?"

"Dude, wait." Dean shakes his head. "Are you saying?"

" _I'm not gonna let you die a virgin_ ," Cas mimics. " _Not on my watch_."

"So wait, you _are_ saying-"

"I might've been the one who wanted it," Cas whispers. "But in the end, you were the one who started it."

He breaks away, smiling at Dean's shocked face. Dean screws his eyes shut. When he opens them, stars dancing in front of his eyes, Cas is still smiling at him.

"So we ..."

"Fucked," Cas finishes.

"And I?"

"Initiated it, yes." Cas smiles at him. "You were pretty damn insistent too."

"When?" Dean asks.

"Soon, I imagine."

"No way." Dean waves his arms in protest. "No way."

Castiel shakes his head, still smiling that stupid, _knowing_ smile of his.

"You always were stubborn," he says.

And that's it for Dean. He grabs Cas by the shoulders, pushes him against the nearest tree, ready to give him a probably not very well articulated but absolutely necessary piece of his mind.

Except he doesn't. He just stares into Cas' blue, blue eyes and the idiot is still smiling that stupid, probably drug-induced smile of his that Dean's wanted to wipe off his face for the better part of their conversation. And somewhere, deep in the pit of Dean's stomach, something knots. His eyes widen, and so does Castiel's smile when he notices.

"Told you," he says. 

And that's as far as he gets. Dean's lips crash against Castiel's, Dean's hands pushing him harder against the tree and grinding into him. 

And Cas is still goddamn smiling!

Dean bites down on his lower lip, and Cas moans.

"You haven't changed much," he murmurs against Dean's lips.

"Wish I could say the same for you," Dean mutters, and Castiel laughs. 

Cas runs his hand down Dean's thigh, palm cupping his buttock, and Dean groans against his lips.

"The things I've done to this thing," Cas mutters, low and dirty, and Dean eyes widen. Cas nips at Dean's lip.

"Oh, you like it. Trust me," he breathes. "You _really_ like it. You _beg_ for it."

Dean moans, and Castiel just kisses him, deep and long and so fucking _needy_ , and Dean kisses right back, giving as good as he gets, tongue sliding against Cas', Dean moaning every time Cas' hands knead his ass.

When he breaks away, Cas is panting, lips red and swollen, and that stupid smile is finally gone. 

"You don't kiss like that," Cas says, and there's a sadness to his voice. "Not anymore."

Dean's not surprised, though he doesn't like hearing it. He probably doesn't do anything passionately these days, only soldiers on because he has to. How far gone must he be if even sex is a chore?

"You used to kiss like this," Cas murmurs, lips brushing against Dean's cheek. "Like whenever we were together, it was the only thing that mattered. Like the world was on hold, and it was just you and me and this unstoppable, overwhelming _need_."

Cas sounds broken, sad for the first time since Dean saw him here, like this, and Dean cups his face, catching his eyes.

"When did I change?" he demands. "Why did I change?"

Cas shakes his head. "Some things I can tell you, to give you a little nudge. But this ... you can't know this, Dean."

"Tell me," Dean demands, voice harsh. "Tell me how I got like this. Tell me so I can stop it."

"You can't stop it," Cas says sadly, resting his hands over Dean's and pulling them down. "The fact that I'm here, now, like this. That means you don't stop it."

"No." Dean shakes his head, and Cas pulls him in, Dean's forehead resting against his.

"Dean, there is no other way."

"There has to be," Dean bites out. "This world. This is on me? This is what happens if I refuse?"

"Yes," Cas confirms.

"No." Dean shakes his head. "There has to be way, Cas."

Cas pulls him in, hugs him.

"There isn't, Dean," he whispers into Dean's hair.

Dean blinks, fighting back the tears that sting his eyes. Cas pulls away, wiping Dean's tear-stained cheek.

"There's one thing I know, though," Cas says, hand resting against Dean's cheek. "If there was a way, if there is ... if anyone can find it, it's you, Dean."

"I always was stubborn." Dean's lip curls up a little, and Cas smiles.

"You have no idea how fond I am of that smirk," he mutters. "But then-" His eyes gleam wickedly. "I've seen it from angles you couldn't even dream about." He winks. "Not yet, anyway."

Dean chuckles. "Who knew there was a real pervert hiding under all that awkwardness, eh?"

"Pot calling kettle," Cas winks.

"You and me," Dean says, looking up at Cas. "Will that … will that change anything?"

"Only for the better," Cas smiles. 

And Dean smiles too.

"Good," he mutters. "S’good."

 

*

 

Dean spins, disoriented, Zachariah and the shabby hotel room suddenly gone. When he finds Cas behind him, trench-coated and clean shaven and so completely and utterly _himself_ , it's all Dean can do not to throw his arms around him.

"That's pretty nice timing, Cas," he breathes instead.

"We had an appointment," the angel says, and Dean swears he's almost smirking.

Dean huffs a little laugh, smiling over at the achingly familiar sight in front of him. He leans in, placing his hand on Cas shoulder.

"Don't ever change," he orders, and Cas gives him a small smile.

 

' _Well_ ,' Dean thinks. ' _Don't change much, anyway._ '

 

\- end -

 


End file.
